Presently they come upon an opossum. The animal starts off on a fast run. Then follows a mad stampede of dogs, boys and men. No need now to keep quiet. We crash through bushes and briers. Finally the opossum, seeing that the dogs are gaining upon him, takes refuge in a tree. Up he goes, like a flash, to the very topmost branches, curls his tail and legs around a limb, tucks his head under the fur of his breast, hangs limp, and pretends to be dead.
He thinks now he is safe, but we know we have him sure. For we have axes with us, and we cut down the tree. The opossum makes no effort to get away while the noise of cutting and the shaking of the tree is going on. And when the tree comes down, Mr. “Possum” is ours.
His flesh tastes like young pig, only more tender and delicate.
But, you will say, this picture is not like our opossums. It does not seem very much like one at first sight, but, on looking closer, you will see several points of resemblance. Our opossum carries its young in a pouch sometimes, and sometimes on its back, and this one, you see, has its three cunning little young ones on its back, with their dear little tails curled lovingly around their mother’s big tail. It has a long prehensile tail, and long flexible feet, so that it can fasten itself to the branches of trees just as ours do. Its fur is pretty much the same. In some respects it is not like ours.
LABYRINTHODON.
There are no opossums now just like this one. This species lived before the flood; and is, therefore, antediluvian. The animal in the picture was never hunted by men and dogs, because neither men nor dogs existed in his days. I think it should make us feel a little ashamed, when we are chasing opossums, to think that their ancestors had possession of the world before ours.
If men had lived in those days they would have had some queer game. How would you like to hunt a Labyrinthodon?
This remarkable beast lived about the same time as the antediluvian opossum. Not a very agreeable acquaintance to meet face to face. A glance at his teeth would be sufficient to make one’s hair stand on end. How awful he must have looked with his mouth open! I think he would have made but two mouthfuls of the Cardiff giant if he had had a bite at him before he turned into stone.
